


Must be an alternate dimension

by mckvch (RaiseYourVoice)



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Awkwardness, Bullying, Crush at First Sight, First Kiss, First Meetings, Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Raphael saves the day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-30 05:10:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12101442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaiseYourVoice/pseuds/mckvch
Summary: Simon’s heart was in his throat and he tried to see the other boy with squinted eyes but his sight was simply too poor without his glasses to see much more than a blob of colours that only let him determine bronze skin and jet-black hair.“Santiago, why are you suddenly invested in playing the hero for a stupid little nerd like this? Besides, you’re not exactly our size either, shorty,” one of the bullies replied easily, clearly unimpressed by the boy’s interference.“Going for the most obvious and lamest comeback as usual. I’m deeply wounded,” the other boy replied dryly and Simon almost gave in to the sudden urge to smile at that because this guy clearly didn’t give a fuck about the attempted insult thrown his way.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I have no idea what this story even is—as usual—but it's been a while since I uploaded something and therefore you'll have to live with this thing now. Oh, and Saphael Week 2017 starts on Sunday, keep your eyes peeled for that because I may or may not participate with random small things :P

Everyone had something like a “worst day of their life”, of that Simon was pretty sure. He didn't. Not because he wanted to be dramatic but Simon had plenty of bad days—especially thanks to his infinite clumsiness—though he refused to hand the title to any of them.

Simon had long since settled on having had a “worst month of his life” because that seemed a lot more fitting in his opinion. Sure, technically, the day he had suddenly been called out of class and picked up from school by his mum at the age of eleven due to his father’s fatal accident at work would count as the worst day but...the whole month had been a very painful experience.

It had started with the quite innocent-seeming school festival that was always held close after the summer vacations to earn some money for the festivities later in the year with bake sales, acts by the drama club and other activities.

For some reason, shy little Simon had decided to get up on the rickety stage that had been set up in the middle of the schoolyard, guitar tucked under his arms and sweaty palms pressed against the instrument’s worn-down wood, to perform a song that he had practised all summer. A song that had been supposed to be the confession of his deep affection for a red-headed beauty by the name of Clarissa Fray.

The song has started off wobbly but it had turned out surprisingly well, with a sincere amount of applause after the last tune. When Simon had swallowed around the lump in his throat and finally croaked the word “this song was for my best friend, and the most amazing girl ever, Clary”, it had all gone downhill.

Not only had Clary not understood the meaning right away and therefore had him explain the not-so-platonic meaning behind dedicating a love song to her, she had also turned him down while comparing him to a brother, breaking his heart in the blink of an eye.

Simon had spent the rest of the day hiding, bawling his eyes out before deciding that he could now never again step in front of Clary after this incredibly humiliating moment. His first love and first heartbreak. The day he had lost his best friend out of cowardice and hurt.

It was not even two weeks later that his father’s accident happened and that had sent a whole new wave of misery over his already pained heart. Simon had his first ever panic attack in the hospital when his mother had started crying at the doctor’s announcement that there was nothing left for them to do but try to take away his father’s pain.

It probably wasn’t just one worst month but this one and at least the two that followed. The one he had spent avoiding Clary, the ones he had slipped into this place in his mind where everything was either too much or just a dull, all-consuming numbness. He had been eleven and didn't know what depression was.

It had taken weeks with the school counsellor and finally months, years, visiting a proper psychiatrist to learn to deal with the feelings balled up in his stomach and lodged in his chest.

Simon still went to therapy sessions occasionally even now that he was finally entering high school one year later than everyone else his age—he had been absent from school for too long after his father’s death and had repeated the school year.

High school was...like middle school but with older people. Everything else was the same. The bullies that decided on him as one of their new targets didn't surprise Simon and he only hoped this time his glasses wouldn't get into the crossfire quite as much as the years before because he was tired of making up excuses about how he had accidentally dropped them, sat on them or had walked face first into objects and smashed them.

The first month in high school had been absolutely terrible, despite not being the worst month Simon had ever experienced, but it was still impressively awful. The second month seemed to start off just the same, with the bullies pushing him around and snatching his glasses right from his nose, leaving Simon to feel even more vulnerable and scared because he couldn't even see properly anymore, when…

“Why can't you Neanderthals finally realise that picking on others won't make your complexes go away? You won't get more likeable or better grades by bullying someone who’s decidedly a whole lot brighter than you bunch together,” a bored-sounding voice echoed through the mostly empty corridor, followed by a few measured steps before the blurry outlines of a boy appeared in front of Simon.

Simon’s heart was in his throat and he tried to see the other boy with squinted eyes but his sight was simply too poor without his glasses to see much more than a blob of colours that only let him determine bronze skin and jet-black hair.

“Santiago, why are you suddenly invested in playing the hero for a stupid little nerd like this? Besides, you’re not exactly our size either, shorty,” one of the bullies replied easily, clearly unimpressed by the boy’s interference.

“Going for the most obvious and lamest comeback as usual. I’m deeply wounded,” the other boy replied dryly and Simon almost gave in to the sudden urge to smile at that because this guy clearly didn’t give a fuck about the attempted insult thrown his way. Even without seeing his saviour properly, Simon could basically feel the other radiating confidence and he felt oddly safe, despite not knowing who this boy was or why he felt inclined to help Simon.

Another short back and forth followed until the bullies actually decided to back off and Simon automatically ducked his head when this Santiago-guy turned around to face him properly for the first time ever since he had shown up.

“Raise your head,” the other prompted Simon with an almost gentle voice and he couldn’t help but comply, despite the heat of embarrassment creeping up in his cheeks, causing them to flush a probably ugly looking, splotchy pink.

Simon blinked in confusion when in the next instance he felt something touch the bridge of his nose and his view suddenly became clear again—Santiago had slipped his glasses back onto his nose instead of just handing them to him.

“T—thank you,” Simon stammered and felt his cheeks flush even more when he was finally able to see more than just a blurry figure only to realise that he had been saved by what might be the most beautiful boy he had ever seen.

Santiago smiled at him now, showing off a row of almost perfectly straight, pearly teeth and the corner of his dark brown eyes crinkled. A strand of soft looking raven-black hair curled against the bronze skin of the other’s forehead and Simon had the nonsensical thought that he would’ve liked to reach out and touch it. He didn’t, of course.

“It was nothing,” the gorgeous boy replied with a dismissive gesture and he clearly meant it, instead of only giving a socially acceptable and polite reply.

“It really wasn’t nothing,” Simon objected and almost jutted his bottom lip out in a pout while his heart was still hammering in his throat. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“So I should have just walked by and ignored that these bullies were picking on you? I know these types of guys—the ones who only go after people who don’t fight back but immediately turn tail when someone talks back to them.”

“Not to sound like a dick but you really don’t seem like someone who has experience being on the receiving end of this,” Simon muttered before he could stop himself and, looking at the other boy, the guy was probably incredibly popular and he couldn’t believe anyone would ever dare to even try and bully him.

“You wouldn’t say that if you had met me a few years ago—with taped glasses, little buck-teeth and braces. I was at least a head shorter than every other boy my age and only spoke rather broken English. I was kind of the perfect target for these guys.”

Simon’s eyes widened a little and he honestly expected the other boy to laugh and tell him this was only a joke because there was no way this guy had changed that much, right? If so, puberty had definitely treated the other more than nicely.

“My name is Raphael, by the way,” he added, now smiling again and it was only now that Simon actually noticed the slight hint of an accent in the other’s voice, telling him that at least that part of the story was probably right.

“I’m Simon.” He offered his hand awkwardly and felt a little less stupid when Raphael took it, despite the amused raise of his eyebrows.

“I know. We went to the same middle school,” Raphael said and there was a slight change in the tone of his voice but Simon couldn’t quite tell what it was or why it happened.

“We went to the same middle school, really? And I probably don’t even want to know what you remember me from,” he replied with a sigh, figuring that it had to be because of something incredibly embarrassing that had happened to him in public. To Simon’s surprise, there was suddenly the faintest hint of pink spreading high on Raphael’s cheeks and he backtracked quickly to what he had said but couldn’t figure out the reason for such a reaction.

“Anyway,” Raphael cleared his throat and then the bright smile was back on his distractingly soft looking lips, “I’m glad you don’t remember me from back then, to be honest.”

Simon frowned but remembered the brief description Raphael had given him only a few minutes earlier but it was still nearly impossible to imagine this gorgeous boy looking anything but like he had just crawled out of some fashion magazine. He was damn sure that Raphael looked amazing even with braces, glasses and buck teeth—the thought, at least, was incredibly adorable, Simon had to admit.

“Now I’m curious to see a photo of you from a few years ago,” he admitted with amusement but paused when he saw the way Raphael frowned and grimaced, clearly not at all fond of that idea. “But it’s fine, you obviously don’t want that. Though I bet it’s not nearly as bad as you make it sound. I can’t imagine you ever not looking amaz—good.”

Simon felt his own cheeks flush with heat and his hand reached up, the pad of his finger pushing against the bridge of his spectacles while his eyes dropped to the suddenly highly interesting floor.

“Maybe I’ll show you a photo some day,” Raphael said after a long, awkward pause and his deep voice had dropped a little, the smooth whisper sending a shiver down Simon’s spine and causing his face to heat up even more.

God, why was Raphael even talking to him? Maybe the bullies had knocked him out and Simon was currently unconscious, lying in the middle of the hallway with a bloody nose and dreaming up this angelic looking boy. Yeah, that was probably it!

“Come on, I’ll accompany you to class,” the other boy suddenly offered and snatched Simon’s backpack from the floor where it was still lying where the bullies had thrown it aside, a few books and his pencil case having slid through the half-open zipper. Raphael pushed the things back inside, closed the zipper and easily tugged the backpack over his shoulder, right where his own backpack was already dangling from one strap.

“Are you—You really don’t have to!”

“I know but I want to.” Raphael’s smile was blinding and he reached out, warm fingertips brushing against the outside of Simon’s wrist and for a split second he was expecting the other boy to grab his hand but, of course, that didn’t happen. Raphael’s hand fell back to his side and he nodded towards the hallway, silently prompting Simon to get a move on because they would both be late for class if they lingered in the hallway for much longer.

Raphael seriously accompanied him all the way to his class, handing Simon’s backpack over in an almost reluctant manner before saying his goodbyes and Simon felt a soft sigh slip past his lips when he watched the other boy walk away. He didn’t even care that everyone was staring at him—the teacher included—when he opened the door to finally enter his classroom half a minute too late.

Simon had been so sure that this was the end of it. That he wouldn’t hear of Raphael again or maybe just see him in the hallway every other day but when the bell rang to announce the break after the second period, he left the classroom to spot none other than Raphael, casually leaning against the wall opposite of the door—chest heaving just a little when you paid proper attention to it and cheeks the faintest trace of pink.

Simon’s heart jumped right into his throat with the nonsensical thought of  “Did he run all the way here from his class to meet me again?” and as much as he was convinced that this couldn’t be it, there was honestly no other explanation for the way Raphael’s face lit up when he spotted Simon.

Maybe the bullies had hit him hard enough to send him into a coma where Simon was currently dreaming up some alternate dimension of his life. A version where a guy like Raphael might have some kind of crush on a guy like Simon. He wouldn’t mind staying in this dimension for just a little longer...


	2. Chapter 2

“Lift your head a little more and stop moving away—it'll only take longer this way,” Raphael scolded while gently pressing his fingertips underneath Simon’s chin to push it up a little bit, tilting the other’s head to be able to reach the shallow cut near his cheekbone. Simon flinched when the cotton ball that was damp with disinfectant was dabbed against the cut, sending a stinging burn through his cheek.

“It hurts,” he grit out but tried his best to stop moving and concentrate on the feeling of Raphael’s warm fingers holding his head in place rather than the uncomfortableness of having his wound cleaned.

“Maybe that’ll teach you to be more careful and not run into doors from now on,” Raphael replied dryly, his voice dripping with sarcasm and Simon flinched again, this time out of guilt.

“I—I didn’t run into the door. Not by my own mistake, at least,” he finally muttered and dropped his gaze when the cotton ball finally disappeared from his face but Raphael’s fingers stayed curled around his chin, keeping his head tilted upwards.

“I know.”

Simon’s eyelids fluttered before he looked up at the other boy again, only now fully realising how damn close they were to each other. He was sat on the treatment couch in the school’s infirmary, feet dangling from the edge and knees spread so that Raphael had been able to scoot closer with the chair he was sitting on.

It was a pretty intimate position, having Raphael basically sit between his legs and Simon was suddenly acutely aware that he would only have to lean forward a few centimetres in order for their lips to—

“And I know you don’t want me to get involved again but I’m really done with sitting around and doing nothing,” Raphael’s voice interrupted his daydream before it even started properly but Simon still felt his cheeks heat up before he started sputtering upon realising what his friend had just said.

“You’re not doing nothing! You’re always taking care of me, that’s already more than enough. I don’t want to drag you into this any more than I already have,” Simon complained and his heart was starting to beat in a more fluttery pattern. He had come to love Raphael’s protectiveness and the other’s urge to somehow make these bullies back off but Simon was scared that it would end with Raphael getting hurt as well.

He could live with this stuff if it meant he didn’t have to worry about Raphael being the one hit in the face with a door “by accident”. At least Simon had started wearing contacts more often lately so the damage was only on his face.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You didn’t drag me into anything.”

“But—but it feels like I do. You always get angry on my behalf and last week you almost got punched in the face when you stopped them from throwing my stuff out the window,” Simon pointed out with a small frown and he knew it was stupid to complain about getting help but he would rather endure being treated like shit than live with the knowledge that Raphael was getting hurt because of him. He was used to being bullied, he would be able to get through the last two years of school as well.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” Raphael sighed and Simon’s skin felt cold when the other’s hand finally dropped down but instead of distancing himself completely, Raphael’s hand ended up resting on top of Simon’s thigh, close to his knee.

“I do, though. We’re friends for some reason and you’re—”

“ _For some reason_ ,” Raphael echoed and he almost sounded angry now, his expressive eyebrows drew together in a nearly pained expression and his fingertips dug into Simon’s thigh hard enough that the touch was impossible to ignore but not yet painful. “You always say stuff like that. You always talk as if me wanting to be friends with you doesn’t make any sense or like you don’t deserve someone wanting to help.”

Simon couldn’t argue with that because it was the truth. It didn’t make any sense for Raphael to be such a big part of his life for months now. Ever since that day the other boy had stopped the bullies in the hallway, he had continued to just show up and fall into step beside Simon as if it was the most natural thing in the world. It thrilled Simon as much as it terrified him if he was being completely honest.

“But maybe you’re right”—Simon was pretty sure he was able to hear the sound of his heart cracking, feeling the surge of panic rising in his chest because he had known this day would come but _please not today, not right now_ —“it doesn’t make sense because I don’t want to just be your friend.”

Simon forgot how to breathe and he felt tears welling up in his eyes until his brain finally caught up with the wording. _Just_ . Raphael had said _just friends_. It almost made it sound like—

“You remember how I told you that I knew you from middle school? The first time I noticed you was during the school festival where you went up on stage to sing a song to this redheaded girl. I still remember the sound of your voice when you sang to her and I remember thinking how lucky she was to have someone serenade her in front of the whole school. I remember watching you the whole time, even after you left the stage, and I saw you talking to her. I was too far away to hear what you were talking about but I could tell the exact moment she rejected you and—God, I never felt so mad at someone I didn’t even know.”

Raphael’s short laughter sounded a little rough and it was him who averted his gaze now, dark eyes watching his fingers spasming lightly against the rough denim of Simon’s thigh, undecided if he should retract his hand or keep it right where it was.

“I wish I had had the courage to walk up to you back then but I didn’t, though I decided right then and there that I wanted to try and be friends with you someday. Well, actually, it didn’t take too long for me to realise that I rather would have liked to ask you out but that’s something I know even less how to do,” Raphael confessed and there was no trace of the usually confident smirk on his face. Instead, there was a shy little smile tugging at the corners of his mouth that made Simon feel dizzy.

“I don’t even know if you’re into guys,” he added, uncharacteristically awkward, and Simon felt like his heart grew at least two sizes with affection for this stupidly oblivious boy.

“I’m into everyone,” Simon blurted out and barely resisted the urge to facepalm, “well, not literally _everyone_. I mean, like, I—I don’t care about gender.”

Raphael carefully glanced up at him, a hint of surprise and what could’ve been hope gleaming in his dark eyes and all Simon could do was press his palms against the top of the treatment couch in order to not grab the other’s face and kiss him stupid for that endearing expression alone.

“I guess I’m the exact opposite, then. I’m into nobody. Nobody but—”

“Me,” Simon finished and he could hear the awe in his own voice at the realisation that this was actually happening right now. Raphael was seriously confessing his feelings to Simon. Sure, he had this short moment of thinking that the other boy had a crush on him at the first day they had spoken to each other but he hadn’t been too serious about that thought. Now, though, Simon realised that he had been spot-on with that assumption.

“Nobody but you,” Raphael agreed and his smooth, strong voice sounded so unusually small and vulnerable that it was almost painful.

Simon’s hands moved on their own accord before his brain even registered that he was about to do anything. His fingers brushed against the softly flushed skin of Raphael’s cheeks, curling around the curve of his jaw while he angled his own body forwards. The other’s eyes met Simon’s, wide and surprised, but Raphael’s body immediately relaxed into the touch.

It felt like Simon’s heart was about to burst out of his chest when their mouths slid together a breath later. Raphael’s lips were even softer than he had imagined and they were tentatively pressing back against his, a little clumsy and clearly unpracticed. It was still the most perfect kiss Simon had ever experienced and getting hit in the face by a door had been a small price to pay in order to get to this point.


End file.
